So Far From Here
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: A missing moment in Transition, or how we got from the OEOB to the airplane.


Truthfully, seeing Josh's name pop up on my cell phone causes my stomach to drop and clench painfully. I hate that. It shouldn't happen, but I've thrown down the gauntlet.

Logically, I know that ultimatums aren't the best way to go about getting a positive response from someone. Usually, it's a good way to get the exact opposite answer you're looking for. I just can't…four weeks seemed like a good length of time. It wasn't a rush; I wanted to give him plenty of time to think about things. I know he's crazy busy right now, but I figure he can spare a minute or two a day to consider me and what he wants.

I just can't be strung along by him. Not again. Granted, I followed him willingly for a long time, and I wouldn't say he purposely did it back then. I knew what I felt for him at that point, no matter how much I tried to repress it, and I was fine with what I was doing with my life…until I wasn't. I know Josh, though, and if I don't give him a timeline, he'll avoid it forever, and without a timeline, I'd probably let him. I wouldn't have the willpower to end it. I'd get sucked into the hectic pace of it all and not think twice about sneaking over to his apartment for a few hours a night—even though there would be no need to sneak—until all the hostility I didn't realize I was bottling up exploded out of me and I killed him.

A month doesn't seem like an unfair amount of time to ask from him. I mean, he has to have some idea of what he wants from me at this point. This thing we're doing, whatever it is, didn't come out of nowhere. He's had a few years to consider the possibilities. I'm not even asking him to decide if he wants to marry me or something. I just want to know that he wants to try a relationship with me…or not. He may not want that and I have to ready for the possibility.

Of course, I've already answered my own question. I know what I want from him, and I know what I'm willing to accept from him. Something along the lines of forever would be ideal, but I really am okay with us taking it slow as long as he wants to try with me. In fact, I'd rather not rush it with him. If he decides he wants to give it a shot, I _want_ to make sure that we're both on the same page, no matter how long it takes either of us to get there.

My phone beeps to let me know I have a voicemail and it snaps me out of my reverie. I can't help the little sigh of relief that escapes me. I really shouldn't put off talking to him, but after the brief conversation we had earlier when he tried to weasel out of taking three weeks and six days to get an idea of what's happening with us, all I can think about is that he was just trying to let me down easily before, and now he wants to spell it out plainly. I don't think I'm strong enough to handle the rejection at this moment.

My desk phone rings suddenly, making me jump, and the display pops up with Josh's cell. I sigh and stare at the phone, pressing the volume button so no one can hear that I'm just letting it ring.

I hold my breath until it goes silent, a message notification showing up a few moments later. I acknowledge to myself that he might actually be trying to reach me because of something work-related, so I reluctantly reach for the work phone and punch in my access code.

"Donna, why are you avoiding me? Your cell phone is always on you, or you're at your desk. If you don't answer one, you answer the other." My cell vibrates in my hand, but I don't recognize the number, so I ignore it. "Doesn't matter. I'll keep calling both until you pick up. You will eventually." The message ends and I flip open my cell before it goes to voicemail, barely managing to hang up my desk phone in the process.

"Hello?"

"Hey! I knew I'd get you at some point."

I pull the phone from my ear, looking at the display, and it suddenly registers that it's Josh's landline. Why the hell wasn't that one plugged into my contacts?

"Hey," I answer slowly. "What's up?"

"Did you check your voicemail?"

"Just on the work phone. I haven't—" I pause in confusion. "Josh, why are you calling me from your apartment?"

"Because I'm at home."

If I could reach through the phone and throttle him…"Why are you at home in the middle of the day?" He's barely at home in the middle of the night lately.

"Top secret mission."

Seriously, I'm going to beat him. Possibly with a shoe. "Then maybe you'd better stop blabbing about it."

"Nah, I need your help with it, actually."

"Right."

"How soon can you get to my place?"

"What?" Not the most eloquent of responses, but I'm seriously lost right now.

"How soon—how fast—can you get over to my apartment?" he repeats, though I swear I can hear him smirking at me.

"Josh, it _is_ the middle of the day. The middle of a workday, no less. I can't just leave and—"

"Technically, I'm still your boss, right?"

"Technically, I suppose, though only in a _very_ technical sense. Where are you going with this?" I close my eyes and rub my forehead, feeling a little disgusted with myself. I've become the woman I never wanted to be and slept with my boss. I really hadn't considered him that way for a while, and our working relationship the past few months has definitely been on a more even playing field, but he is—technically—my superior. Great.

"Well, as your boss, I'm giving you permission to ditch work and come over here."

"Josh—"

"I'll call the president-elect and let him know you'll be out of the office for a little while, if you want. He won't have a problem with it."

"Josh—"

"Please," he says softly, his voice taking on a whole new quality. "Please, Donna. I'd really…I need to see you. Please?"

How the hell am I supposed to resist a request like that? "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That's…phenomenal! How soon can you get here?"

I feel myself start to grin at his enthusiasm, but I bite my lip to try to rein it in. "Depends on if I can get a cab or if I have to take the Metro."

"Cab's faster," he answers quickly. My heart thumps a little faster in response. If he was planning to let me down—easy or otherwise—he wouldn't be so eager to get me over there, right?

"True," I answer as I save my work and shut down my computer. "But only if I can catch one right now. Otherwise, it'll be just about the same to ride the rails."

"'Ride the rails,'" he mocks good-naturedly under his breath, but I can feel him hesitate.

"What? What's wrong? What did you do?"

He chuckles. "Wrong? Why would you assume I did something wrong?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

"No, not really, no." He pauses again and I wait for him to spit it out as I shrug into my coat. "What if I told you there was a cab waiting for you outside?"

"There's a cab waiting for me?" I exclaim, then clamp my mouth shut. I glance around the office—I'm definitely getting a few looks, but most people are going about their business.

"What if there was?" he asks defensively.

I sigh and grab my bag, heading for the door. "I'd call you incredibly cocky."

"How about incredibly hopeful?"

I swear…this man is going to make melt into a puddle while simultaneously making me homicidal. "Maybe I'd call you sweet."

"Sweet, huh?"

"Maybe. Only if there's actually a cab waiting for me."

"Well, it should be there," he assures me. "If not, it will be in a few minutes."

"You're actually serious," I say, making way down the stairs so I don't lose reception in the elevator. "You called a cab to come pick me up?"

"If it's still sweet, then yes, I did. If it makes me creepy, then no, I did not. The cab waiting outside is just a coincidence."

I giggle idiotically and head to the front doors, still managing to be surprised at what I see. The cab is actually there. "I'll be damned," I whisper.

"So, you'll come over?"

"Josh…I'm already outside, looking at the taxi. Why is there any doubt?"

"Just making sure."

"Do I need to give the driver the address, or…"

"You'll need to tell him where to go. I didn't want to be presumptuous." I can't help but snicker at that. "So, I'll see you soon, right? It only takes about fifteen minutes even with traffic. If you're not here in half an hour, I'm calling out the National Guard."

"Or you could call me first, make sure I haven't gotten stuck behind the motorcade or something."

"Where's the romance in that?"

I shiver a little, and I feel a grin take over my face. "I guess you have a point."

"Okay, so…get in the car! I mean, please. I really need to talk to you, all right?"

"Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Okay." He hesitates again, and I can't even fathom what it is he wants to say this time. "Bye."

The line goes silent before I can respond, and I stare at my phone in confusion for a few moments before snapping it shut and shoving it in my pocket. I walk tentatively up to the cab, the driver already rolling down the passenger window as I approach.

"Donna?" he asks in a stereotypically gruff voice.

"Yeah…how did you know?"

"The guy who ordered the cab—Josh—gave me your description. Hop in."

I pull open the back door and slide in, still baffled. "He did? And he got it right?"

"Tall, blonde, beautiful." He grins at me in the rearview mirror for a second. "Sounds like he got it right. Where to?"

Inexplicably, I feel my cheeks heat up and mumble Josh's address, nodding when he repeats it to confirm. I know that Josh finds me attractive, but something about him describing me as beautiful to a total stranger seems really…intimate. And sweet, and enough to make my knees weak.

The driver doesn't make much conversation with me on the short trip, for which I'm thankful. My mind is too busy trying to figure out not only what Josh is doing at home at three on a Thursday, but why on earth he needs me there, too.

My mind circles back to that it can't be a bad thing. He wouldn't end things with me in person. I've known him long enough to know that he would just try to avoid me until I gave up, or until I confronted him and gave him an out. I'd like to think he wouldn't pull the same crap on me that he has on other women, but there's that whole thing with old dogs and new tricks and I don't think he'd be able to help himself. So him calling me over to tell me it's not going to work with us is extraordinarily unlikely.

Which leaves me at good news. He wants to have some sort of conversation with me, and while I know that we're a ways off from the "forever" talk, which is fine, if he's at least willing to have the "let's see what happens" talk, I'll be thrilled.

But still…why his apartment in the middle of the day? Why not just ask me to come over tonight? Maybe he didn't want to give me the impression that it's another hook up. Okay, but then why not just ask me to meet him for dinner? Is that too much like a date? Would going on a date be weird at this point? We've known each other forever and have been on a lot of date-like excursions; do we need more?

Mentally, I answer my own question: Yes. It doesn't have to be a pick-me-up-at-my-door, buy-me-flowers sort of thing, but eating a meal with him in public as his significant other, or at least his potential significant other, is something that I'd really like to do, at least once or twice.

The cab jerks to a stop and I look up, surprised to find we're already outside of Josh's building. I try to pay the driver he waves me off, telling me that "the guy" already have his credit card information. It takes me a few moments to collect myself from that one. Josh isn't a tight-wad at all, and he's been known to be a very decent human being, but I just never expected him to think that far in advance. He's kind, but often scatter-brained.

I make my way slowly into the building and up the stairs, trying to calm my thumping heart. Everything about this moment is unprecedented, and I kind of hate not knowing what to expect. When I showed up here the other night, I knew what was going to happen. I knew that getting Josh into bed wouldn't be a hard sell, and I was completely right. But this time, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that this isn't going to be bad, I can't help but feel like I'm walking toward my execution.

When I get to Josh's door, I freeze, suddenly unsure of what to do. Should I knock? Use my key? Try the knob to see if it's unlocked? The door flies open suddenly and Josh stands before me, eyes bright, grinning from ear to ear.

"You're here!" he exclaims. Before I can respond, I'm being kissed. Seriously kissed. He has one arm wrapped around my waist, and the other hand is gently cradling my head. I'm so taken aback that I can't even respond for a few moments. Before he can pull away, though, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. I'm still stunned, but some corner of my mind manages to grasp what's going on.

He tilts me backward, and I gasp into his mouth as I realize I'm being dipped. My head spins and I swear that I'm trapped in a movie. Things like this don't happen in real life.

He breaks away, both of us breathing heavily as we gasp for air, but he's still grinning at me broadly, suddenly looking years younger. "You're here," he whispers again, and my heart absolutely melts. I press my lips to his in answer, and he slowly stands us upright.

When we part again, I can't help but grin in response. "Well…I guess you're happy to see me."

Somehow, impossibly, his smile gets wider. Instead of answering, he pulls me into his apartment and pushes the door shut. The place looks like a tornado has barreled through it, even more so than the other night.

Unfortunately, that's as far as he gets. He shifts from foot to foot, suddenly looking terribly awkward, and my heart goes out to him. Interpersonal interactions are not his strongest suit.

"What's up, Josh?" His eyebrows shoot up, waggling suggestively, and I roll my eyes. No matter how old they get, men are all really teenage boys at heart. "Well, yes, I know about _that._ " Instead of embarrassing him in the slightest, he just looks immensely pleased with himself. I sigh and try again. "What's going on?"

"Oh, _that_." He turns me gently, pulling my coat off my shoulders and draping it over the back of an armchair. Then he grabs my hands and leads me to his couch, sitting us down side by side. I'm actually getting freaked out now, more so than I was on the way over here.

"Okay, seriously. What's happening here? Am I dying? Are you? Did—"

"I want to wake up with you," he blurts, cringing immediately. I feel my eyes growing wide. My heart tries to pound out of my chest.

"What?" I whisper, my hands automatically tightening around his. I breathe a little easier when he doesn't try to pull away.

"I want—I mean—I shouldn't—ah, hell. No, I want to wake up with you."

My mouth opens and closes several times as I try to wrap my mind around what he's saying, which isn't much at the moment. "Uh…"

"So, I know we haven't done a lot of the actual sleeping and waking up together thing yet, but seeing you next to me has been one of my favorite parts. Not that the sex isn't amazing! Because it's fan _tas_ tic, but there's something about waking up and seeing you there that has made me happier than I ever imagined it would. So, I want to do that. More of that. I want to see you there in the morning, regardless of whether or not we had sex the night before. I want to do this with you."

"This?" I manage to choke out, my brain trying desperately to keep up.

"This. Us. Life! Whatever. I mean, the world sucks sometimes, and things can look pretty bleak, but they've always seemed more manageable with you next to me."

"Josh…what are you saying to me?"

"I'm saying let's do this. Let's try it. Let's figure it out together. Wherever you are is where I want to be, and no matter where you go, I'll follow you."

I really can't breathe right now. My eyes sting a little, but that's probably because I haven't blinked since I got here.

"Look, Donna, I have my head up my ass most of the time. I focus on work too much. I don't pay attention to what's going on around me unless it's politics. I'm very single-minded…tunnel-visioned. Monomaniacal, if you want. Whatever. But, I don't think I want to live like that anymore. No—I _know_ I don't. I want to enjoy life while I can, and a big part of that is being with you. You make my life better. You make me happy. I know this isn't necessarily the discussion you wanted to have, but I'll get there. I _want_ to talk to you. I want to figure out how to do this with you. It may come in bits and spurts, and I'm not going to be good at it. Actually, I'm really going to suck at it, and I'm going to need you around to help me, you know, not suck. But I don't need the four weeks—three weeks and six days—to figure out what you mean to me because you mean everything to me. You kind of have for a long time." He stops then, his hands gripping mine as he looks at me hopefully.

I exhale, not realizing that I'd been holding my breath. I blink and feel a tear trickle out of the corner of my eye. I laugh self-consciously and rub my cheek with my shoulder. "Wow."

He grimaces, looking down at the floor. "Too much? That was too much, wasn't it? I'm sorry—"

I cut him off, pressing my lips against his. "That wasn't too much," I reassure him a moment later. I grab his face in my hands and take a deep breath, smiling at him broadly. "That was great."

He grins and kisses me again, wrapping his arms around me, moving us slowly until we're reclined against the arm of the couch. I can't help but laugh a little. I haven't made out like this on a couch since high school. He moves to kiss my cheek, my ear, then down my neck, and I sigh. A moment later, I groan and shift beneath him.

"Josh, your couch sucks."

"It does?" he asks, his voice muffled, and I laugh again.

"Yeah. It's all hard and formal. Where the hell did you get it?"

He shrugs, his mouth moving to my throat. "Decorator. Needed new furniture."

"Well, it sucks."

He looks up at me, grinning broadly. "So help me pick out another one."

"What?"

"Help me find one that's comfortable. That way, when you kick me out of bed, I'll have somewhere half decent to sleep."

My head goes hazy at the thought of being with Josh to the point where we have dumb fights that lead to one of us sleeping on the couch. Then again, the idea that we'll be spending the night together on a regular basis is an odd thing to wrap my mind around.

He kisses me again and I push at his chest a little. He takes the hint and sits us back up, though his arms never loosen their grip.

"So, will you?" he asks, breaking away again.

"Will I?"

"Will you help me find a suitable replacement couch? Something that's a little more home-y?"

"Uhh," I answer, just as eloquently as on the phone earlier. "I…I guess. Maybe. Let me think about it." Suddenly, that feels like an enormous step. Picking out furniture for his apartment seems huge. Ironically, five or six years ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it. I probably would have jumped at the chance. But now, with him on the verge of being my boyfriend, I feel like I might need to tread a little more lightly.

Still, he shrugs with a grin. "I'll take it." He grabs me under my knees and swings my legs across his lap, scooting closer to me. I can't help but stare at him in wonder. This is a completely different man than I spoke with earlier today. He's smiling, he's full of joy, he looks relaxed. He looks happy. My heart flutters wildly. He looks happy because of me. He said it himself— _I_ make him happy. I can't even completely grasp that.

I run my hand down his face, taking care to trace the deep lines in his cheeks, the boyish dimples that almost act in counterpoint to the stressed-out man he is most of the time, and it only seems to make him smile harder. He leans in and kisses me again, and I still can't get over it. He's kissing me so casually, as if it's something we do all the time, no big deal. And I love kissing him. He's good at it. _We're_ good at it.

His fingers slide lightly across my thigh and I realize his hand has made its way under my skirt.

Well all right then.

I scoot myself a little closer, my skirt bunching up in the process, and it suddenly occurs to me that my legs are rubbing against denim. I pull away from him and his lips try to follow me, landing on my neck when I turn my face a little to avoid being distracted by him. It's only marginally effective.

"Josh?" I ask, though it comes out a bit more like a moan than I'd like.

"Hmm?" Wow—he's really going for it on my neck. It feels incredible, though I'm probably going to wind up with a hickey.

"Why are you wearing jeans?" He doesn't answer; he just keeps sucking on my skin. "And you still haven't told me why you're home in the middle of the day."

"I haven't?" He kisses my neck a few more times before slowly sliding his hand out from under my skirt, moving to cup my cheek. He turns my face back to his and kisses me again, sufficiently distracting me for a few minutes. "I have a question for you," he mumbles, kissing me a few more times before pulling back to smile at me. He reaches over to the coffee table and grabs an envelope, handing it to me.

"What's this?" There's nothing on it, no name, no company logo, nothing to give me any hint about what it could be.

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Open it."

I huff out a sigh but open the flap. I jump straight up a moment later, swinging my legs off his lap and planting my feet on the floor. "Josh…"

"Donna…" he teases, and my mouth drops open in shock.

"These are plane tickets."

"They are."

"Two plane tickets."

"Yeah. Did you happen to check out the destination?"

I hadn't, actually. I look at the tickets a little more closely. My jaw manages to drop even further, and I imagine I'm doing a pretty good impression of a goldfish. "Hawaii?!"

He grins at me. "Yes."

"Are you serious? Hawaii?"

"You've never been, right?"

"Of course I haven't! But… _you're_ going to Hawaii?"

"Hope to."

"And you want to take…me?"

"It's not worth going if you're not with me."

I really think my heart is going to burst right now. "I just want to be clear—"

"Mrs. Santos asked you to think about the Chief of Staff thing, right?" I nod dumbly, staring at him in astonishment. "What better place to think about a major life decision than in paradise?"

I'm having trouble breathing. I swallow heavily. "Josh, you're—"

"Will you go to Hawaii with me?" He suddenly looks unsure, nervous, and I can't believe he would ever doubt my answer.

"When do we leave?"

His entire body relaxes and he leans in to give me a quick kiss. "Tonight," he breathes, pressing his forehead to mine.

"I'm sorry; what?" I couldn't have heard him right.

"Our plane leaves from National tonight, about four hours from now."

"You're joking, right?" I ask, even as I scan the tickets for the information.

"I need a vacation," he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. "The only way it's going to feel like one is if you're with me. I know it was presumptuous of me to buy the tickets and make the hotel reservation before I ever asked if you wanted to come with me, but I took a leap of faith. If nothing else, I know you need time to decompress as much as I do."

"Hotel reservation?" Out of everything he just said to me, that's all I can get myself to say.

"Wait 'til you see it, Donna. It's this amazing bungalow right on the water. There are these big glass doors that face the water, and our bed looks right out to the ocean. There's a hammock and lounge chairs and a hot tub…it's kind of secluded but part of a larger resort so there are a few restaurants nearby, and there's a pool, if you get tired of the Pacific…it's incredible. I think you'll like it. We could leave the doors open while we sleep, get the ocean breeze at night. I don't know if you've ever had the chance to sleep on the water like that, but it's really unbelievable."

My brain mostly stopped functioning when he mentioned the bed— _our_ bed. The bed we'd be sharing. On a beach in Hawaii. My throat closes up and I will myself not to cry. Going to sleep with ocean air washing over us, waking up to the sound of the waves, wrapped around each other, making love in the privacy of a little house on the beach…

Making love? Is that the right way to think about it? Until ten minutes ago, I wouldn't have thought so, but this is a guy who planned a dream vacation to Hawaii for the two of us. Anything goes at this point.

"Can you get the time off?" I finally whisper, not trusting myself with anything else.

He presses his lips to my cheek and I can feel him smile. "Yeah. It was no problem."

"But who's going to…"

"Sam's here," he answers. "He's going to help while I'm gone, Goodwin, too. We have a lot of very capable people, as it turns out. We can leave the country in their hands for a few days."

"Sam's here?"

"Yeah, he showed up this morning. He's still thinking about it, but he's agreed to look after things while we're gone. I don't think we're going to have time to stop in and see him before we leave, but we'll have a chance to catch up with him when we get back."

 _We_. He keeps saying _we_.

I burst out laughing.

"What?" he asks, his voice laced with worry.

"Is this really happening? We're really leaving tonight to go to Hawaii?"

"If you still want to."

I laugh again, this time throwing my arms around his neck, tackling him with enough force to knock the both of us off balance. "Yeah," I tell him, pushing my face into his neck. "Yeah, I still want to go." His arms tighten around me and he sighs contentedly. "Can _I_ take the time off?"

"As your boss, I have most definitely already approved your absence. Is four hours going to be enough time for you to get everything together? Because we probably want to try to get to the airport a little early, just in case, so it's really only about three hours."

"I'll make it work," I tell him, even though right now I'm not sure how. "I'm going to have to go to my building and dig through the storage area to find clothes and bathing suits, and I'll have to go back to CJ's to get the basic stuff." I shift away from him, moving to stand up. "You can pack for yourself, right?"

"Yeah," he answers, looking amused, before putting a gentle hand on my thigh. "Hey; don't feel like you have to pack a lot of clothing."

I open my mouth to tell him the sorts of things I'm going to need for a trip like this when what he says hits me. "Pig," I say affectionately. "So, what—sunscreen and a smile?"

His jaw goes a little slack and I see his throat bob as he swallows. "Sounds good to me." He gives me a little tug, pulling me back to him. His free hand cups my jaw, pulling me in for a gentle kiss. Even though I know I don't have a lot of time to waste, I let myself get lost in Josh for a few minutes. Everything is so surreal and I just know I'm going to wake up any second.

"I have to go," I say against his lips, but neither of us makes any move to part.

"Mmmhmm," he mumbles, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

"Think that cab's still waiting for me?" I try not to let myself think about how impossible this is going to be. He doesn't actually live terribly far from CJ, but my apartment isn't anywhere around here. The Metro is great but not always the fastest means of travel if you can't time it just right, or when there's been yet another unexplained delay. Cabs are usually faster, when they can be found, but I know that I can't be speedy enough to have one wait for me each time I have to stop somewhere.

He chuckles, coming up for air. "Probably not. Want me to call for another one or—wait. You know what? Hang on." He pats his pockets before standing up. He pats them again then tosses aside a couple of the pillows on the couch and reaches between the cushions. He turns and shoves aside a bunch of papers on the coffee table, mumbling incoherently to himself. Finally, he walks over to the door, letting out an "Ah-ha!" He holds up his keys and tosses them to me. "Here. Take my car."

"Josh, no."

"Take it. I know your car finally died over the summer, and you need a way to get around right now."

I shouldn't be surprised that he knows my old clunker finally bit the bullet last July, though I can't imagine how that's information he ever would have come across. "How are you going to get to the airport?"

He shrugs, walking back over to me. "Cab, probably. Maybe the Metro—the airport _is_ a Metro stop, you know. I don't really have anywhere to be between now and then, other than maybe the drugstore, but that's just a couple of blocks away."

"Are you sure?" I ask, standing to face him.

"Donna, you've driven my car before. I trust you. Do what you need to do. If you have time, drop it off here before going to National. If not, drive it there and leave it in long-term parking. I don't care. Whatever gets you on the plane to Hawaii is fine with me."

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss. "Thank you," I whisper.

He doesn't answer, instead kissing me in return. "You should get going. Unless, of course, you want to stay and…" he trails off, waggling his eyebrows at me. I slap his ass playfully.

"If I crawled into bed with you now, there's no way we'd make our flight."

"Oh _really_?"

"You wouldn't be able to move," I answer, my voice dropping an octave.

"Sounds promising."

"The thank-you-for-taking-me-to-Hawaii sex is going to be substantial. I don't think you'll have use of your legs after."

I can feel a shudder run through his body. "I can live with that."

"Can you live with spending all this money on a trip to Hawaii only for us to never make it out of your bedroom?"

"Absolutely," he answers, almost before I can finish asking the question. My breath catches at the look in his eye, and there's not a doubt in my mind that he'd happily toss me over his shoulder and drag me to his bedroom for a week, only emerging for food and water.

"Get out of here," he finally says, his voice way deeper than normal. He reaches down to the coffee table and grabs one of the tickets. "Take this with you, just in case."

I grab my bag off the floor, not even remembering how or when it got there, and put the ticket inside carefully. "I'll see you in a couple of hours?"

"I'll be the one who can't stop smiling."

My heart does that fluttery thing again as I grab my coat and shrug into it, and he leads me over to the door, pulling it open for me. Just as I'm walking through the threshold, I turn to face him again. I put my hand on his chest, right over his heart, and it's almost a relief to find it thumping erratically.

"Seriously…thank you," I say, my voice choking up again. The smile he gives me in return makes my knees turn to jelly.

"Thank you for saying yes," he counters, leaning in to give me a quick kiss. "Now, really, get out of here before I…strip you naked and tie you to the bed."

"Save it for Hawaii," I whisper. His face flushes and he groans, drooping against the doorjamb.

"You trying to kill me?"

"Not before you have a chance to tie me up."

"See, you say things like that, and I don't know if you're kidding."

"I guess you'll find out, won't you?"

He groans again and grabs my arm, pushing me carefully into the hallway. "Go. Now."

I force my feet to propel me forward, very studiously not looking back at him. The door finally latches shut and I all but run down the stairs, my heart pounding with excitement. The first thing I have to do is run to drugstore and get sunscreen so I'm not a lobster the entire time. Also—I need the biggest box of condoms I can find. I'm sure that's on his list, too, but we can't be too prepared.

As I let myself into Josh's car, I pull out my phone and dial CJ's work line. She'll need to know not to expect me back for a while.

* * *

This story was not inspired by the song Two Tickets To Paradise, but I will say it was encouraged by it. I'd already had some idea of the story I wanted to write but sort of hemmed and hawed over it, then the song popped up either on the radio or Spotify, and it was one of those magic moments where the lyrics meshed with what I was thinking. I also had no idea this story was going to be this long. It's another that I wrote by hand and finally typed up, shocked as hell at the sheer length. It's really no wonder my hand has been cramping up.

And I know everyone and their mother has written the Josh and Donna in Transition story. The last thing the world needs is another one of these. Too late now. At this point, I'm just assuming they went to Hawaii because of the silly tropical shirts the flight attendants are wearing at the end of the ep. I tried watching with the captions, but they cut off just as the pilot is about to say what airline they're on.


End file.
